


I've Killed A Million Petty Souls, But I Couldn't Kill You

by ragingrainbow



Category: Adam Lambert (Musician), Tommy Ratliff (Musician)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Bloodplay, Community: kink_bingo, Demons, Knifeplay, M/M, Painplay, Scarification, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-29
Updated: 2011-08-29
Packaged: 2017-10-23 05:11:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/246611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ragingrainbow/pseuds/ragingrainbow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“Just make it hurt,” Tommy grits out, arching up slightly under Adam’s touch, meeting the sharp kiss of the knife.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	I've Killed A Million Petty Souls, But I Couldn't Kill You

**Author's Note:**

> For my [Kink Bingo](http://glambrosiah.livejournal.com/16111.html) ‘Scars/Scarification’ square.  
> AU fic in which Adam is a demon hunter and Tommy is a demon.

Adam has been hunting the demon for months, but now, when he literally has his hands around its pretty little neck, he realizes that death is not the revenge he’s looking for.

“You win,” the demon rasps, through the grip Adam has on its throat. “Congratulations.”

It doesn’t feel like winning. Not yet. Not until the demon knows what it really feels like to be cursed, to be marked, to have your whole fucking existence destroyed. To be consumed by darkness, owned, broken.

“No.”

Adam lets up his grip just a little. The demon stares at him, challenging, breathing in poisoned gasps. Adam stares back, trying to figure out what’s so different this time. Trying to kick some sense into himself. He knows that it’s impossible to control a demon, that he needs to kill it now or set his own death sentence. He reaches one hand into his pocket for his knife, a satisfied grin settling on his lips as he holds it to the demon’s throat.

The demon keeps staring at him, gaze growing clouded with the poison coursing through its veins. The trickle of blood makes a beautiful contrast to pale skin. The demon licks its lips.

“Knew you wouldn’t kill me. Just like last time.”

It isn’t the first time Adam has a trapped demon trying to rile him up. He’s sure it won’t be the last. That’s what demons do, play to your emotions, your darkest secrets and regrets. They try to weaken your resolve, to manipulate you.

The moment you falter, they kill you. If you’re lucky.

Adam smirks, drags the knife in a thin crimson line over its chest, stops above its heart.

“Oh I _will_ kill you. Trust me.” He presses the knife down, not hard enough to draw blood this time. Not yet.

It falters then, for a few precious seconds it drops its gaze from Adam’s, and Adam almost pities it. Almost.

“You want me for your pet?”

The question catches Adam by surprise, the heady rush of desire even more so. He presses down harder on the knife, watches the drop of blood run down the pale chest.

“You can call me Tommy.” The demon cocks its head to the side, stretches a little despite the hand Adam still has on its throat, cat-like, feral, and Adam is trapped between knowing he needs to kill it and the desire to _own_.

“Shut up. Your games won’t work with me.”

The wounds are already healing, preternatural blood causing human cells to work well past their normal capacity. Adam has seen it before. He knows how to prevent it, how to bleed a demon dry, slow and painful and utterly satisfying. And he knows how to leave scars.

“Stay still.” He waves the knife in front of the demon’s, Tommy’s - yeah, Adam can work with that name, he guesses - face for effect. He doesn’t expect Tommy to stay put.

Adam holds the knife in the flame of the candle on the table, dips the heated metal in holy water. Tommy tracks his movements, Adam can feel his gaze even as he turns his back, but when Adam turns back to him he hasn’t moved a muscle. This demon is definitely full of surprises.

“You’re the one playing games,” Tommy says when Adam has the tip of the knife against his chest again, skin burning under its touch.

Adam can’t argue with that. He narrows his eyes, traces the letters lightly over the skin, sketching out his idea. He’s startled when Tommy whines, shudders, the reaction seeming so real that Adam isn’t sure he’s acting.

“Tease.” The challenge is back in Tommy’s eyes, but Adam can see something else beneath it. It looks like desire.

“You want this?” Adam moves the knife back to the start of the first letter, puts more pressure behind it as he follows his outline with a sure hand.

“Just make it hurt,” Tommy grits out, arching up slightly under Adam’s touch, meeting the sharp kiss of the knife.

“I will,” Adam promises. He isn’t sure that either of them are talking about the knife anymore, even as he keeps carving his name into pale flesh.

When Adam is done, when he drops his knife and kisses Tommy, he tastes poison and promises that are worthless coming from a demon. He wants to treasure them anyway, like a child that collects shiny stones, makes believe that they’re gems.

His life has been hell for years. It was always just a matter of time before he consorted with the devil.


End file.
